


What's in a Name

by MuiromeM



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: 5 Times, Drama, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-07 17:32:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuiromeM/pseuds/MuiromeM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times that Simmons calls him "Leo"</p><p>Five one-shots of varying themes (hurt/comfort, drama, fluff), that were written because no one has said Fitz's first name in the show yet and that is a travesty.</p><p>(EDIT: This was written before "Seeds". It was pretty great to hear someone call him "Leopold")</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Time- Comfort

 

* * *

 

     During their academy days, Fitz and Simmons had always roomed together whenever it was possible (and they’d bunk over when it wasn’t). Their last two years had been much the same, if a bit more extreme; they’d found a tiny apartment to share and had spent more time pulling all-nighters on the dingy sofa, rickety table and chairs, or the rug Simmons’ mother had given her, than they actually had in their separate bedrooms. Time apart didn’t come very often despite different classes and coursework, so the two were always aware of the other’s presence, be it physically or in the different objects each of them owned that would be scattered around their shared space. Even the lab they’d been in before had been one they’d shared together.

     Changing from that, a nice and stationary lab with little danger that didn’t involve R&D, to a mobile unit and the looming worry of possible field work had Fitz more than a little on edge when he moved to stay with Coulson and the rest of the team-in-progress. The BUS, as Coulson had dubbed it from the start, was clean and comfortable overall, but it was also very alien. Everything was quiet, what with the jet still on the ground and Coulson likely locked in his office doing paperwork. There might have been someone up in the cockpit, but liftoff wasn’t scheduled to happen for at least another day or two while the team was sorted out, so at the very least Fitz didn’t have to think about how terrifying sleeping thousands of feet in the air would be.

     Not tonight anyways.

     But holed up in the small pod that was meant to be his room, Fitz felt too isolated from everything. Sure the lab had seemed nice, and Simmons had obviously been delighted to see the new tech that had been unloaded, but he still felt far from settled in. The box he’d brought of his belongings had only been partially unpacked (primarily clothes and essentials), and the strange and unfamiliar ceiling above his head kept him from lying on his bed for very long.

     Nothing felt… _right_ just yet, and the overbearing silence of his room made Fitz shiver slightly. Jemma had begged him to apply with her when she’d decided that going into the field would be a good experience, and he’d never been able to turn her down before. But now, his brilliant mind was in overdrive and all it could think about was how scared he was of this change. He’d liked the old lab that they’d been in and if he was honest with himself, he wasn’t sure he was ready for the sort of action that being around field agents would surely bring. Fears or not though, he wouldn’t have dreamed of being alone in their old lab without…

     That was the problem though wasn’t it? He was currently sitting in his room alone; no lab partner and best friend in sight. Realizing that the answer to his insecurities was simple, Fitz crept out of his pod, locking the door securely behind himself, before tiptoeing to one of the rooms a few units down from his own. He fidgeted outside the door a moment before managing to knock, hoping the noise wouldn’t be loud enough for anyone but the room’s occupant to hear.

     He barely had to wait a few seconds before a soft “Come in” drifted out and the door opened, allowing him access. Immediately after he slipped inside Jemma’s room, he felt self-conscious and began to fidget, staring at his socks. He tried to find the words to explain why he’d come, why exactly he’d needed to have her company, if nothing else, this first night in a strange new place. Instead, the matter was taken from his hands entirely as Jemma seemed to read his mind. She stood up without a word and wrapped both arms around him.

     “Oh _Leo_ …” she breathed against his ear, the words sounding like a sigh of relief. She hadn’t called him that in a long time, and the lack of his formal surname sent a wave of relaxation through his body as he hugged her back. “It’s ok to be scared; I’m scared too.” she said. “Everything is so different, isn’t it? I really miss our old lab and our old rooms.” Jemma pulled away from him, giving a small but reassuring smile before guiding him to sit at the end of her bed.

     He followed diligently, attempting sheepishly to return her smile. “Sorry, I can’t help worrying.” he said. Fitz squeezed the hand she had intertwined with his, shrugging slightly. “It’s just hard adjusting I suppose.”

     “I know.” Jemma squeezed his fingers back. “But, we’re in this together, aren’t we? Even in a strange lab with new people and places and missions, yeah?” She nudged his shoulder with her own in a gesture they’d often shared during work hours.

     Fitz felt the tension melt away as he sat there, beside his best friend in the world, simply staring at the empty walls that he hoped would one day be as familiar as the woman who slept by them. “Yeah.” He said plainly, smiling to her properly this time and delighting in the way Jemma’s face lit up. “Of course we will.”

     Later that night, in his own room, he’d hear her voice in his head once more whispering his name, and remember that she was always just a few steps away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read and review if you enjoyed.
> 
> The other chapters have to be transcribed from my handwritten version, so they might take a day or two to post, but it won't take too long.
> 
>  
> 
> So basically this happened for many reasons.
> 
> 1). There aren't enough fics with Fitz (who happens to be adorable and my favourite character), at present. Especially dramatic ones with him in danger.
> 
> 2). I really need someone (preferably Simmons), to call Fitz by his first name in the show. Even better if it is during a life or death situation.
> 
> 3). I am not ashamed to say that I'm a sucker for hurt/comfort of the "favourite-character-is-badly-injured" kind because I like nothing more than the 4 B's (Bloody, Broken, Bruised, and Bound), when it comes to the fictional guys I like.
> 
> 4). I never know where to find people who are taking writing prompts, so I had to write this shit myself.
> 
> 5). I have semi writer's block, so I can't write proper fanfiction, but apparently I can write short and probably crappy one-shots.
> 
> 6). I have been dying while I wait for Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. to come back on.
> 
>  
> 
> Anyways, hopefully someone enjoyed reading this.


	2. Second Time- Worry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how long all the chapters will be, since this one ended up longer than the last. I wanted to have this chapter up yesterday but stuff got in the way.
> 
> But on another note, Agents of S.H.E.I.E.L.D. is back on tonight! I'm so excited!

* * *

 

     Jemma was aware that she’d been pacing for the past five minutes, but she didn’t have it in her to care. The habit was obnoxious at the best of times and it was one she thought she’d managed to grow out of years ago. Apparently, that was not the case.

      The biochem glanced at the wall clock, noting absently that the second hand appeared to have a small piece missing and that only four and a half minutes had passed since she’d last checked the time. She’d mentally been categorizing minute details such as that for a while now, having nothing better to keep her attention. Whatever sort of patience usually kept her calm during times of stress seemed to have left in the past hour or so of waiting.

      “Don’t worry Simmons,” Skye was saying, sitting off to one side of the lab, laptop perched on her legs precariously while she tried to find a status update. “A.C. said that he’d bring them back in one piece. Coulson knows what he’s doing. Plus, May’s there and Ward is still trying to get a message from the Hub. Just relax a bit, okay?”

      Despite Skye’s relaxed appearance though, for once Jemma wasn’t fooled; the team hacker was working diligently on her laptop to find any reason or information behind May and Fitz suddenly stopping all contact and not arriving for the scheduled rendezvous. Whatever had gone wrong on their mission, Coulson had gone to try and find their missing teammates. Skye was just as worried as anyone else on the team; she just had somewhere to focus her attention. Jemma didn’t.

      The BUS was grounded until Coulson (and hopefully the others), returned, its hangar bay open in preparation for potential arrivals. The laboratory doors were out of the way in a similar fashion, and the two women had a clear view of the hangar since Ward had moved their large black van out of sight. Jemma could be outside the jet in a matter of seconds if needed, though she didn’t want to think of scenarios where that might be necessary. There were too many scary thoughts crossing her mind as it was.

      Five grueling hours had passed since the team had missed the rendezvous, three since Coulson had last made contact with the BUS, and one and a quarter since the Hub had contacted them with a message to stay put. Ward had been on the comm lines arguing that order ever since, but judging by his continued absence, he wasn’t making any headway on the matter. Jemma wanted to ask him how it was going, but she knew that interrupting would be a very bad idea. Ward was stressed enough as it was, he didn’t need her checking up on him every few minutes.

      Thinking of minutes made Jemma check her watch again. Five more minutes had passed in tense silence.

      Then ten more passed… fifteen… by the twenty minute mark (Jemma had been tallying the time from the beginning), Ward came barreling down the stairs and entered the laboratory in a huff. He looked ready to boil over, jaw clenched and fists curled at his sides. But he said nothing, remaining calm despite the fire in his eyes, and chose to do as the others had done; worry in relative silence.

      “Nothing?” Skye asked tentatively, not wanting to make Ward any angrier, but also unwilling to stay in the dark for long.

     Her S.O. shook his head, arms crossing over his chest as he leaned against a countertop and stared resolutely out towards the hangar entrance. “We’ll wait.” he said simply. “All night if needed. Coulson has always pulled through before. He’ll get them home.”

      When he spoke no further, Skye returned to her laptop and Jemma tried to tidy the lab and checked some bacterial samples; anything to keep herself occupied. It did little to help and when the six hour mark finally ticked passed, Jemma watched as Skye closed her laptop and moved to sit next to Ward. She didn’t speak but the look in her eyes told the biochemist enough. If Skye couldn’t find any update on the state of their comrades, then no one was going to.

      As the seven hour marker neared, an alert came through from headquarters, requesting to speak with Agent Ward. When the man in question asked who wished to speak with him, he must not have liked the answer because Grant ignored the call, his face looking pale. Skye dared to ask who was on the line and Ward simply shook his head.

      “MIA registry; until it’s been twenty four hours, they have nothing to say to me.” After that Skye stopped asking questions and Jemma watched and waited until the clock’s hands clicked beyond the seven and a half hour mark.

      Still nothing.

      In nearly eight hours, Simmons had devised over a hundred mental scenarios to explain what had happened to Agent May and Fitz. The least of which involved never really finding the answer to that question and being left in the dark forever about her closest friend. That scenario had been one of the first to come to mind and initially, not the scariest. But, with time ticking on she began to fear it more and more. Jemma was exhausted mentally and physically and she was beginning to think she’d be better off in her room; at least there she’d be alone and she wouldn’t have to cry in front of anyone.

      Making up her mind, she had packed up the lab equipment and was just stepping around Skye’s chair to announce her departure when a low vibration under her feet stopped the words from coming. Ward must have heard something before she did because he’d jumped up, eyes wide, just before tires could be heard scraping against dirt and gravel outside the BUS. Where the night had been pitch black moments before, now headlights sliced through the shadows and illuminated a small, badly damaged van as it rolled to a stop just shy of the loading ramp. Skye, Ward, and Jemma were all running for the vehicle even before it came to a stop.

      The headlights blocked their view of the van’s interior, but the driver’ side door was opened and May slid out, looking bruised, tired, but definitely alive. Her expression was hardly changed from the usual emotionless mask, but moments later, the passenger side door was swung wide as well and Coulson gingerly exited the van, closing the door in his wake. He had about two seconds of breathing time before arms were swung around his neck in a bear hug.

      “You’re alive!” Skye exclaimed, grinning as she hugged him. Coulson grimaced in some sort of mild pain but made no protest at the show of affection, so the others took this as a good sign. Their leader had dark bags under his eyes and suddenly looked much older than usual. Whatever it had taken to get back to the BUS, Simmons imagined it was far from easy.

      Speaking of difficulty and danger… “Where’s Fitz?” Jemma asked, voice shaking as she noticed a distinct lack of Scottish engineer in their little reunion party. Normally Fitz would be the first one out of a moving vehicle, especially after field missions. He’d normally be complaining or discussing something with her about what had happened, but at the current moment…

       Coulson didn’t answer her question, instead looking at Ward and nodding towards the back of the van as he gently pried Skye away. “I was just about to ask you something about that.” He said, sounding just as tired as he looked. Ward raised an eyebrow, concerned. “Don’t have the energy right now; we need you to lift him.”

      Jemma probably lost all color in her face at those terrifyingly vague words, and suddenly all the gruesome mental scenarios she’d come up with came flooding back when Ward disappeared around the back of the van. The vehicle was similar to a bakery delivery van she’d once seen, with large double doors to access the back loading area. With the doors open, her view was blocked entirely, making it useless to try and quell the sudden worry overcoming her.

      Waiting hours for any sign of her teammates’ return suddenly seemed like nothing in comparison to the tense few moments that she had to wait for Ward to come out. Jemma heard the pounding of blood in her ears, the erratic noise seeming to get louder and louder until-

      No, that wasn’t just in her head at all. There were some banging noises from the inside of the van, a low thump, and suddenly a voice drifted out; jumping pitch in irritation and muffled from the van’s walls, yet so very easy for her to recognize, Scottish lilt notwithstanding.

      “I told ya, I don’t need this much help Ward. Just let me… hey I’m not a bride, put me _down!_ Hoppin’ isn’t that hard, would you jus’- Oi! _One broken bone is bad enough!_ ” There was a gruff but unintelligible reply that must have come from Ward, but Jemma didn’t care to figure out what it had been. One moment she was rounding the back of the van in a sprint, the next her palm connected sharply with the side of Fitz’s face. She didn’t even have time to see if he was alright.

      “ _Leo Fitz!_ Don’t you _ever_ scare me like that again, do you understand?!” she shouted angrily, trying to get her heart rate to calm by taking slow breaths. Fitz just stared at her for a moment before he scowled. Balancing on one leg, one arm around Ward’s shoulders for balance, his unoccupied hand came up to touch the cheek she had slapped and Jemma belatedly realized that he was scraped up on that side of his face. The leg he wasn’t standing on had some sort of makeshift splint around it and Fitz had it raised slightly off the ground. His hair was disheveled, skin bruised, scraped, and generally looking rather pale in the gloomy light of the van’s headlights, but his eyes were suddenly alight.

      “What the _hell_ was that for?” he cried in retaliation, accent thick and eyes looking from her to Ward as though his lab partner had suddenly gone mental. Despite Ward’s other arm supporting Fitz by the waist, he flailed slightly in his distress, hopping once to adjust his balance and that seemed to remind Ward that they were supposed to go inside.

      The agent snickered softly to himself as Fitzsimmons continued to bicker back and forth, sounding less and less angry and more simply irritated with each other as they headed up the hangar ramp and into the BUS (Fitz still being helped along and Simmons following right beside him). Skye rolled her eyes as they passed but still smiled in relief, and he couldn’t help the slight grin that tugged at his lips on seeing her reaction to the two scientists when they went inside.

      It wouldn’t be until much later, after Coulson had explained about the mission going south (an ambush, May being compromised and Fitz getting a broken leg managing to help her out), after everyone had turned in for some much needed sleep, that Jemma would find Fitz in his room and cry out her apology into his shoulder while he whispered promises to never do anything so risky again.

      (It was a promise he couldn’t keep, but he’d have said anything to make her happy).


	3. Third Time- Sleepy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one came out shorter than I expected.... woops looks like I can't write anything substantial unless it is angst or hurt/comfort (which is coming up). Since this Chapter wasn't very long I might be able to post Chapter 4 today too.
> 
>  
> 
> On a side note, we all know Ward is a big softie and I adore his big brother attitude towards Fitzsimmons far too much.

* * *

   

     In hindsight, Jemma probably shouldn’t have taken that second drink. Allowing Ward to “bar-tend” on the BUS was probably not the best idea when he had a tendency to mix alcohol rather poorly. Maybe it was a conspiracy to get her and Fitz drunk together… she wouldn’t put it past Skye to have Ward do something like this on purpose. The attempted mistletoe incident back in December had made her wary of what the hacker was prepared to do to get the two together in some way (not that it was actually necessary).

      Whatever the cause, she was definitely drunk by now and Fitz was probably just as out of it as she was, judging by his slightly slurred replies and the thickening of his accent as the night had gone on. The two were currently sprawled out on the living area couch, watching some kind of movie on what might have been Skye’s laptop. She couldn’t actually remember putting anything on and had no idea where the laptop’s owner had disappeared to. Come to think of it, everyone else might have just gone off to bed because she and Fitz were alone. There was a blanket being shared between the two of them, but she couldn’t tell if it was hers or Fitz’s.

      “Y’know…” Fitz suddenly mumbled, waving a hand haphazardly towards the low table in front of them and breaking a silence that had been untouched for what could have been an hour. “I dunno what we’re watchin’ at all. Do you?” His cheek was squished against the side of Simmon’s head, her own cheek pressed to his shoulder where she’d snuggled up to him.

      Jemma tilted her head to the side, lifting it up slightly to squint at the screen. “Nope.” she finally decided, making a popping sound on the last consonant before lying back down against Fitz’s shoulder. She giggled, amused by her own actions before a long yawn escaped. She cuddled up closer to her personal heater and closed her eyes sleepily.

    Fitz grinned lazily when she moved nearer, but when Jemma closed her eyes he suddenly remembered something. Turning his head to look at her he frowned. “Hey, wait, no no no you’re not sleepin’ on me!” he said, nudging his lab partner in a half-assed effort to get her to remove herself. This was made more difficult due to one arm being pinned by Jemma’s shoulder. The rest of his body was trapped against the arm of the sofa as well due to her overall weight. “Last time ya did that, I couldn’t turn my neck for three days. I don’t like sleeping on the couch!” he protested with a whine.

      “But _Leo_ …” Jemma said with a whine of her own, drawing out the syllables of his name as she squirmed slightly. She ended up with her head in his lap, staring up at him plaintively. “Leo, I don’t want to get up. You’re warm and cozy and I’m too tired to go to my own bed.”

     Fitz could have argued; he could have even rolled her off the couch now from his angle if he was feeling particularly mean (he rarely ever was). But he knew that he’d lost the fight before it had started as soon as she had sighed his name in plea. Her soft brown eyes blinked innocently up at him and he groaned in despair.

      “Oh alright.” He rolled his eyes and ignored the tugging of a smile at his own lips as Jemma grinned contentedly at his answer. Fitz pushed her carefully around so that he could maneuver and get at least somewhat more comfortable with his back resting against the arm of the couch and half her body still draped over his legs. “But you’re getting’ the hangover stuff tomorrow.” he mumbled, eyes suddenly impossible to keep open. “Only fair, since I have to be your human pillow.”

      The only answer he got was a soft snoring and the steady rise and fall of Jemma’s chest. She was already asleep and had probably heard very little of what he’d said. Fitz figured it was useless fighting anymore, what with how tired he felt and how warm his friend was lying against him. Trying to keep a mental note to yell at Ward in the morning and convince Skye to make them breakfast (it rarely worked but sometimes their double puppy-eyes did the trick), he rested his head against the couch and soon joined Jemma in sleep.

      The following morning was horrid and Fitz would definitely have a crick in his neck for at least a few days, but remembering how Jemma had cuddled up to him that night made it at least a little tolerable. That and the fact that he now had proper teasing material to use against Agent Ward in the future (he’d caught the “tough” agent staring at them fondly and putting an extra blanket over their shoulders like a mother hen). 


	4. Fourth Time- Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how I mentioned less fluff and more hurt/comfort angstiness? Well here you have it. I do enjoy a bloodied-up Fitz (pity it hasn't happened in the show yet), and it is longer than the last one.
> 
> A big thanks to everyone who has reviewed and enjoyed reading these little one-shots!

* * *

 

     Jemma Simmons had a little notebook in the drawer beside her bed on the BUS. In it, she kept a short list of personal problems or areas she thought she could improve on in her life. It kept her aware of things she had trouble with (“try to use more American English around Ward, he doesn’t understand the difference between crisps and chips” and “get better at lying/faking it in case of another emergency” were some examples), and made her feel good when she could check something (like annoying habbits), off of that list. Right about now, however, she was considering adding “pay more attention to your surroundings during missions” to the top of that list.

      In her own defense, Coulson _had_ told her to stay in the van and keep her attention on the various feedback screens that had been set up to monitor everything. She had followed his order exactly as stated but one moment the feed showed Ward’s communication line blacking out and May pulling her gun on someone, the next there is gunfire over the line so loud that it makes her take out her earpiece for fear of going deaf. Coulson can still be heard rattling off some kind of order either to May or to Ward but she can’t understand what’s going on as another camera blacks out and seconds later there is a clatter from behind that makes her jump.

      (It was a good thing no one was trying to kill her because she would have never seen them coming).

      The back doors are being thrown open with a bang and suddenly a semi-conscious Fitz is hauled by Agent Ward into the back seat. Jemma barely has time to let out a squeak of surprise before Grant is grabbing her hands, pressing them onto some kind of balled up fabric that’s been glued to Fitz’s side by something warm and wet. He makes sure she’s pushing down firmly enough before letting go and shouting over the racket of gunfire that’s coming from somewhere beyond.

      “Keep him awake until we get back!” he says, staring her right in the eye. Ward looks behind himself once before grabbing something (likely ammunition), from the back of the van and then he’s running off, slamming the van doors closed on the way. It isn’t until the sound of shooting is dulled into a rumble by the exterior of the vehicle she’s in that Jemma realizes that Fitz is lying motionless next to her and that’s not just something wet under her hands it’s _blood_ and suddenly everything is _Fitz is bleeding_ and _what happened_ and _he’s been shot!_

Her best friend has his eyes screwed tightly shut against the pain, face ashen and hands shaking where they lay at his side. His mouth is moving but Jemma can’t be sure if whether or not he’s trying to speak. She isn’t sure what to do either (other than not panic; that’s obvious but easier said than done), so she situates herself beside him properly and does her best to wake him, using the hand not occupied with trying to stop him from bleeding out to gently pat his cheek.

      “Fitz…?” she says tentatively, hoping to keep the tremor in her voice from slipping out. It doesn’t seem to work very well as she stutters almost immediately. “Fitz c-can you hear me? Fitz it’s Jemma.” She bites her lip, watching for any sign that he is still conscious besides the ragged breathing and the deep crease that remains between his brows. “I… I need you to look at me for a bit, okay?” She knows that her sudden cheeriness is as false as it gets, but that’s her default method of keeping herself calm. “Just look at me. Can you do that for me Fitz? Just one teensy look, yeah?”

      He stirs, head rolling slightly to one side and an incomprehensible slur of vowels and consonants tumbling from his lips. He’s at least conscious still; that’s a good start. Jemma is doing her best not to hyperventilate when Fitz stops responding again, but the slick heat of blood slipping past her fingers and seeping into the sleeve of her jumper and Fitz’s shirt isn’t _helping_ (his shirt was burgundy before, wasn’t it? She wondered if that was why there seemed to be so much _red_ everywhere-), so instead she ponders idly if he actually looks paler now than he had before and surely that was a bad sign because he still _wouldn’t open his eyes._

“Come on Fitz, Ward said you need to stay awake until he gets back and that’s really something you have to do without my help. I can’t make you wake up so just open your eyes alright? Please?” she patted his face again, more firmly this time. When he let out a groan of pain she stopped, dragging her thumb gently over the curve of his cheekbone instead; a gesture she hadn’t meant to be so intimate. Tears were starting to escape her careful control and her voice wasn’t so cheery anymore; false or otherwise.

      “It’s just until everyone gets back, I-I promise. Wouldn’t want to disappoint Ward and May and Coulson would you?” She was rambling, but there was nothing she could do because Fitz had been s _hot_ and she hadn’t _been there_ and oh, why wouldn’t he just _wake up?!_ “What about Skye? She’d be so upset you know. And… and if you wake up now, then you can sleep for as long as you like when this is all over. Hours and hours if you’d like, really. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

      There was another groan this time, longer than the last but sounding almost like someone waking from a deep sleep. Fitz’s eyelids began to flutter, his head tilting back and forth slightly as he struggled with consciousness. Emergency medical training wasn’t exactly required classwork at the Academy for laboratory workers, and Jemma was acutely aware that she didn’t know the right thing to do in a situation like this.

      Heart-rate skyrocketing from the adrenaline pumping into her system, Jemma did the only thing she could think of. Raising her voice, she did her best to sound as strict as possible, ignoring the wet trails that tears left across her cheeks as they flowed freely.

      “ _Leo Fitz_ , you’d better wake up right now or I’m going to find Ward and that would mean going into a firefight without any weapons. If I die it will be on _your conscious_ , is that what you want?” She said, waiting a beat for him to respond…

      Then two… three...

      Chewing her lip in despair and frustration, she moved both hands over the makeshift bandaged that she still had pressed against Fitz’s side and (with a silent apology), pushed down on it harder than was strictly necessary.

      ( _Jemma would have nightmares later of the strangled half-choke, half-sob that was clawed from his throat, tears spilling from his eyes as blood welled up between her fingers-_ )

      An overpowering sense of guilt washed over her as Fitz gasped for breath at what must have been excruciating pain, but it was nothing compared to the relief and triumph that came afterwards when tired blue eyes flew open to stare wearily back at her.

      “I’m…. ’m awake, a’right?” Fitz slurred, gasping brokenly for breath and looking more fragile and tired than she’d ever seen him before. “Just stop… shoutin’. Head hurts.” He squeezed his eyes shut and took in another shuddering breath. Jemma was afraid he’d pass out again but, thankfully, his eyes opened moments later.

      By then, Jemma couldn’t help the sudden laugh that bubbled up and escaped, releasing all the fear and nervousness she’d felt in one sudden burst. “Your _head_.” she said emphatically, disbelieving. “You’ve been _shot_ in the stomach and you’re complaining about your _head hurting?_ ” She could finally feel her heart rate beginning to slow down as Fitz gave a half-hearted scowl and a reply that was barely above a whisper.

      “Musta been… all that smackin’ from you.” He managed to give her a weak smile before it turned into a grimace. “Might… might w-want to ease up a bit Jemma.” He nodded towards her hands and she realized in terror that she’d still been pressing too hard against his wound.

      “Oh my gosh, _I’m so sorry!_ ”

      After that, Jemma remained resolutely at his side; even after the others returned (the mission a success), and Ward took over with proper first aid treatment, she remained beside him the whole damn time, carefully holding his hand in hers. No one else on the team bothered to try and separate them, not during the ambulance ride and not at the hospital; even if they knew that Simmons hardly slept the whole time Fitz was there.

      He must have slept though surely, in the semi-silence of a hospital room with her head rested at his side. Dreaming required sleep after all, and Fitz recalled vague murmurs that might have been his name and the soft press of lips to his forehead… eyes…hand… Surely that must have all been a dream, induced by pain medication and trauma.

      A dream, nothing more.

  _(But it was a good dream)._


	5. Fifth Time- Relief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow sorry this took forever to put up. I got distracted and interrupted, then my wifi was acting terrible (still kind of is), and then I was halfway through typing it up when like, one paragraph was driving me crazy so I stopped writing, thinking it was awful. I finally tackled it today, got through the rest of it easy as pie and took a moment to question myself on why I had suddenly hated this chapter briefly despite it being fine.
> 
> Anyways hope you guys enjoyed reading all of these! I have loved every single comment and they've made my day.
> 
> On a side note, for those who are interested, I've started getting ideas together for a bunch of one-shots with the 4 B's (Bloody, Broken, Bruised, and Bound). Or in this case, multiple one-shots based on prompt words that all start with "B", which will involve Fitz hurt or in danger, and will not likely be limited to only 4 stories. So keep an eye out, that might be happening in the near future!

* * *

 

    The damage wasn’t permanent; that’s what S.H.I.E.L.D.’s finest doctors had assured her. The dose of Extremis Fitz had been forcibly given by Centipede scientists had nearly torn him apart from the inside out, his body rejecting it almost immediately. But Coulson’s team was good; they’d found Fitz’s location less than three hours after he’d been taken and Simmons had managed to find a cross between a temporary suppressant and a sedative that had saved Fitz’s life until expert medical attention could be given to reverse the effects.

      But “alive” wasn’t the same thing as “healthy” in Jemma’s book. Finding Fitz strapped to some kind of table, eyes wide and voice hoarse from crying out had been beyond terrifying. He’d been straining against the bonds that held him down, gasping pleas of “ _stop, please_ ”, and “ _it hurts_ ” until Ward had untied him and Jemma had administered the suppressant. They were lucky that Fitz hadn’t simply gone too hot before they’d got there, with the state he’d been in at their arrival.

      After hours of care, the doctors had announced that Fitz would be fine but in a coma and would likely stay that way for a few days. Motionless, hooked up to an IV, and looking almost too peaceful after what he’d gone through, Fitz had remained unconscious for two days in the hospital before another doctor came and informed Coulson and the team that their friend would likely wake the following day. No one had been more elated to hear the news than Simmons, and both Ward and Skye had offered to stay at the BUS so that Jemma could stay at Fitz’s side in private until he opened his eyes.

      (Skye made her swear to call them when he did wake up though, under no uncertain circumstances).

      But Fitz was still unconscious despite Jemma having been at the hospital for hours, and by midday she was starting to wonder rather depressingly if he’d ever wake up.

      The rest of the team had left their marks on his once bleak hospital room, with a get-well card from Skye that was appropriately adorned with a picture of a monkey (and an atrocious pun about bananas), a bouquet of flowers from May and Coulson, and Ward had been the one to bring a pair of clean clothes for Fitz to change into when he was well enough. Jemma had kept herself semi-busy the past few days by helping everyone else; suggesting which clothes to bring (“oh he thinks the blue jumper is the most comfortable”), what flowers were best (“don’t get any lilies, he says they smell funny”), and generally trying to keep everything neat and orderly and _just right_ for Fitz.

      Basically everything she currently _wasn’t._ Her ponytail had started to come undone, the shirt she’d worn from the night before (they’d allowed her to sleep over), was wrinkled and might have had a bit of tea spilled on the hem, and she’d been chewing at her lip for a good twenty minutes. Jemma was thankful that Coulson had requested for Fitz to have a private room after he’d been released from the ICU, because at least she didn’t have to worry about anyone else watching her in such a state. She knew that the doctors were competent and professional, trusted that they wouldn’t lead her astray, but she was running out of patience waiting for Fitz.

      “You know, the doctors mentioned that you can probably hear me, subconsciously at least.” She muttered, her head resting on the hospital bed beside Fitz’s arm. Jemma held his hand, running a thumb lazily over the back of it in tiny circles. She was tired from having broken sleep and tired from days of worry. “But then again, they also said you’d wake up today too… and you haven’t.”

      She couldn’t really help the slow trickle of fear that had slipped into her tone, into the nervous fidget her fingers were dancing over her friend’s hand. She was scared, of course she was; Fitz had been unresponsive for days and the last thing he had said to her, shaking and teary-eyed in that terrible excuse for a lab, was “ _don’t go, please don’t leave_ ” while she’d stroked his hair as the suppressant took effect. Those words had haunted her every moment she’d stayed away from the hospital and the more time that went on the more she feared that Fitz wouldn’t wake up, not today and not ever again, and that he’d be the one to leave _her_.

      She’d voiced her concerns to Skye who had hugged her tight and assured her that Fitz would never leave her like that. When Ward found out (likely through Skye), he’d visited her little room on the BUS late at night and told her that Fitz was strong, stronger than people usually gave him credit for, and that he’d “pull through”. The words were probably true, and so very kind, but it didn’t abate the cold dread that had settled in the pit of her stomach anyways.

      When Coulson came by in the evening to bring Jemma some dinner (he’d been the one to make sure she’d eaten properly at lunchtime as well), she realized how late it had gotten without her notice. The curtains of the room’s only window hadn’t been drawn and she could see the lights of the city. She smiled weakly at her boss’s offer of take-away Chinese food and he smiled back but, instead of leaving immediately as he had earlier that day, Coulson took a seat next to her, hands clasped together and elbows on his knees.

      “I know you’re worried Jemma,” Coulson said gently, “and so am I. Skye has been acting strong for your benefit but she didn’t sleep last night and Ward was up late training. I think punching something helps him deal with uncertainty.”Jemma tried to hide the look of guilt that spilled over her; of course the others were worried. She’d been so occupied with her own fears she hadn’t really noticed.

    “I’m sorry sir, I should have-” but he cut her off with a raise of his hand, eyes soft.

      “Hey, it’s alright. The rest of the team knows why you’re so upset, and they don’t blame you for it Jemma. So don’t beat yourself up about anything. But please remember, the doctors here are some of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s best and they know what they’re doing.” He held her gaze, staring intently but not intimidatingly. “Promise me that you’ll sleep tonight, alright? Fitz wouldn’t want you to neglect yourself, not even for his sake.”

      Jemma chuckled slightly, knowing that she was being silly and that Fitz would probably chew her out later for not sleeping properly. “Yes, sir.” She said, nodding but breaking eye contact. She would try to sleep; honestly she would, but……

      The uncertainty must have shown on her face because Coulson stood up from his plastic seat and stepped around to kneel between her and Fitz’s hospital bed. He reached for one of her hands, where it rested tensely on her knee, before gently maneuvering it so that her fingers pressed firmly but carefully against the underside of Fitz’s wrist.

      “Feel that?” he asked and Jemma realized she could feel Fitz’s pulse. “Ignore the beeping and the machines; as long as that’s still there, not on a monitor but under your fingers, then Fitz is still alive. He’ll wake up soon Jemma, I promise. Now get some sleep.” He patted her arm gently in a manner reminiscent of her own father, handed her the blanket May had dropped off the previous day when Jemma had decided to stay over, and then he quietly left.

      Jemma pulled the blanket over her shoulders and lay her head against the edge of Fitz’s bed once more, feeling the heat from his skin as her head only just brushed against his arm. With Coulson’s words still repeating through her mind, she gently wrapped her fingers around Fitz’s wrist; not enough to actually feel his pulse, but the memory of doing so was a comfort to her. Lulled by the soft, constant sound of his breathing and the faint but rhythmic beeping of the machines, she finally closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

  *             *             *

 “Jemma.” She barely stirred, cheek squished against something warm and sturdy, still partially in dreamland when a voice reached her ears. “Jemma wake up. Ugh, can you hear me at all? _Jemma.”_

She bolted upright, eyes still attempting to focus properly as she blinked, heart pounding as she finally registered who the voice had belonged to (soft and hoarse though it was). Tired and sunken eyes met hers and, at that moment, they were the bluest ones Jemma could ever remember seeing.

      Fitz, exhausted and rumpled though he was (hospital gown wrinkled, hair disheveled), smiled softly at her. “Sorry to wake ya, you looked awfully peaceful, but my arm was about to lose all circulation and I don’t want to add ‘amputation’ to my list of reasons to stay in this hospital.” He wiggled the fingers of his right hand and Jemma distantly realized that she must have moved in her sleep because she’d been resting her head against Fitz’s arm.

      Wait… Fitz’s arm…

       _Fitz._

“Leo!” her brain finally caught up from her post-sleep haziness and she practically jumped on top of him in a hug. “You’re finally awake!”

      “Ow, yeah I’m awake! You’re gonna make me wish I wasn’t in a minute!” He chastised her with a slight gasp, but the smile that escaped after his initial grimace of pain was a fond one. “Don’t crush me Jemma I’ve had enough hardship for one week.”

      Simmons immediately moved to sit back down, rattling off one apology after another and starting to fuss over her friend. She fixed his pillow and called for the nurse to come and check up on him now that he was awake and fretted over his uneven covers.

      Fitz rolled his eyes but let her do it, knowing that this sort of thing made her feel better and helped to disperse some of the nervous energy she’d surely built up. “I’m alright Jemma, really. You can stop worrying for a minute.” he said.

      She only shook her head, handing him a glass of water from the bedside stand but stopping the insistent fussing for a bit. “I’ll never stop worrying Fitz. How else will you stay out of trouble?” she teased, lacing her fingers in his.

      He put on an expression of mock indignity. “Hey little missy, I recall _you_ being the one who wanted ‘exciting’ things like trouble and danger.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “And besides… if I wasn’t ever in any danger, how else would I get you to call me Leo?”

      Jemma turned scarlet. “I don’t just call you Leo when you’re in danger you know.” she mumbled, slightly embarrassed. Fitz smiled to himself, squeezing her hand and nudging their elbows together as the nurse entered to check on him.

      “ _I know._ ”

 


End file.
